


Strawberry Shampoo

by narutoblogging



Series: Rewind, look closer, watch it change under your care. [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28933518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narutoblogging/pseuds/narutoblogging
Summary: Shikamaru goes through the little things in his half-asleep mind.
Relationships: Akimichi Chouji/Nara Shikamaru
Series: Rewind, look closer, watch it change under your care. [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2098329
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Strawberry Shampoo

**Author's Note:**

> There’s a half-written chapter that goes more into a plot-ish/world-building aspect of Chouji’s and Shikamaru’s move to be published later accompanying this work. The first half of this one is pretty much a long-winded char-study-ish fic about Chouji from Shikamaru’s pov, so it might be boring to read in one sitting, but was a blast to write, which is how fanfiction works, I believe :P.

Shikamaru mulled over the “boyfriend title” question for a while, deciding to not make a big deal of it quite yet, but made a better effort to hang out with Chouji more often. It wasn’t as easy as most people would’ve bet on, they both had changed and gripped with their own personal dramas the other wasn’t directly involved with yet, but they were themselves so it also wasn’t hard, or surprising that Shikamaru had essentially moved in with Chouji after a mere couple weeks of frequent late-night visits. They went out for lunch on slower days, and tried some of their old outdoors weekend activities, but Shikamaru had to admit what he appreciated most was the domestic comfort that came with spending the weeknights together after work (and the morning, if he was lucky), the homemade meals, the relaxed physical contact, even the light-hearted nagging Chouji didn’t even realize he was doing, everything so different from his own empty house he avoided returning to at all costs. 

Months back Chouji had moved out to a little house at the edge of the clan’s perimeters, and kept his little place clean and although the social spaces were pleasantly minimalist, his bedroom was full of life, plants, colorful little comfort and personal items Shikamaru thought was delightful to spend time surrounded by, so much more “Chouji” than even his childhood room back in the Main House. 

Well into adulthood, Chouji had a natural connection to all things soft and cute, something his dad worried silently about; mostly as to not get in trouble with the wife, sweet Megumi-san who was the origin of such inclinations, buying Chouji the frilliest toddler products and toys, almost compulsively, but definitely unapologetically. Shikamaru thought it only fitting and natural for his friend, feeling guilty he couldn’t keep the teasing from the academy kids at bay, watching as Chouji slowly replaced his pastel Sanrio school supplies with pokemon and random cartoon heroes he wasn’t as interested in, stopped doodling little twin stars in the margins of his homework (he wasn’t a good writer then, often intimidated by written worksheets, and felt empowered to return messy assignments when he knew Shikamaru was returning none at all right before or after himself). His more “delicate” interests turned inwards and were hidden away in a matter of weeks. 

It could still be seen poking out at places in his private life, his choice of hobbies - poetry, barely-used stationary collecting, bright-colored little knitting and crocheting craft projects also taught by his mom. Even in how he tried to avoid the pink and “girly” pokemons, but his favorites were still the cutest ones of every generation, usually the pikachu counterpart or one of the starters. Anyone who could call themselves his friend would come to realize at some point or another. Chouji himself was a little self-conscious of how none of their friends would bat an eye knowing he kept the teddy bear Shikamaru gave him fresh out of their academy graduation, and that it even snuggled close to him in bed on tough nights, or the friendship bracelets he and Ino made age 8 or so, both beaded and knot-braided types. They’ve gifted them to Shikamaru too, of course, and he’s also kept them. 

(He was sure they were in some box of abandoned childhood toys and knick-knacks his mom had the forethought to keep whenever he tried to just throw out whole drawers of “old stuff” to open new space. It wasn’t sitting prettily in a teeny tiny hand-woven weed stalk box together with other miniature keepsakes like Chouji’s, or hanging in a bed post like a sloppy DIY decorative piece like Ino’s, but it was somewhere in his family’s home, so technically, he kept them.)

It didn’t show in his choice of clothes much, but another thing that stuck out for Shikamaru was how he had a clear preference for sweet smelling hygiene products straight from the “women’s” aisle, the kind of thing you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t close enough, or register the origin of at busy public spaces. His (very nice smelling) long hair was another easy favorite trait, including when it puffed out and went all over everywhere whenever he used his family’s techniques (something something chakra paths, something something centrifugal force, but Shikamaru thinks it’s mostly the whole rolling around with it dragging right against the floor thing). 

The most fun out of it all was shower time, when it got really grimy, Chouji would whine and ask in a cutesy voice for Shikamaru to help him wash it off. Like a little game, Shikamaru will always pretend to be a little annoyed by it, and Chouji will always make this puppy-eyed face he makes in the rare occasion he dares to ask for a favor. There’s something very genuine in his pout that makes Shikamaru wonder if Chouji knows he’s just playing around, but he thinks it’s pretty clear how he rejoices in getting his hands over-filled with strawberry shampoo and lathering it through all of his long mane for as long as he could keep his arms up like that, then repeat with another sickeningly sweet-smelling conditioner. He loved doing it, he loved how for the rest of the day he had the perfect excuse to have his face all up in Chouji’s hair, always cuddling close to him.

Chouji eventually realized Ino had really played up how much care went into keeping your hair long when he first started growing it out. Until he was  _ made _ to think about it, he never paid attention to see that Shikamaru, whose hair was kept at shoulders’ length since he first grew it that long, didn’t do anything much different from himself and Asuma; only realizing when he walked in the public bath with four unlabeled travel bottles Ino had pushed into his arms mere days before their first long mission in a while. The embarrassment quickly turned into good fun when he asked for help and it devolved in a silly smelling game even Asuma joined, having clearly been in close proximity with feminine grooming products, only to bashfully retreat under his showerhead ignoring the boys teasing and interrogating him about how he spoke with so much authority on the subject.

Chouji took some time to narrow down what was really needed, and decided he wanted something softer than most guys if only it would keep his hair from ending up with his dad’s impressive porcupine-y mullet shape (or lack thereof, since he didn’t think his dad ever cut his hair at all and just let it get “filed” down through training on the mountainous rocks behind their clan estate, like squirrels’ teeth on bark). Shikamaru loved the smell and made sure to make Chouji feel safe from ridicule whenever they showered together, despite it being a little too much for most guys (namely himself) to keep. He liked to believe he was doing just fine with the 3-in-1 shampoo-conditioner-body wash bulk-bought nondescript white sludge he always used, though he would admit to, sometimes, splurging on a nicer 4-in-1 (anti-dandruff!) of the same brand with a vague pine-y and mint-y smell, but he didn’t really like wasting money on shopping therapy - and Ino wouldn’t convince him it wasn’t that or that it didn’t count as a “splurge”. As soon as he started showering by himself he’d use soap in his head half the time anyway for practicality sake, so that was a serious step up.

The memories swirled in his half-awake mind before it booted up, face squished on Chouji’s pillow, where he crawled to even unconscious, after that sweet smell and the plush-soft touch. He stretched his limbs past the confines of the bright blue velvety blanket, but snuggled back under it, enjoying the quiet and peace of his first Saturday off in… since he started that job, really. He quieted his mind and took in his surroundings, hearing behind the birds outside a faint clanking of pots and plates from the kitchen, and found it in his heart to forgive Chouji for abandoning him to wake up, well, perfectly comfortable, but without his personal space heater and human pillow.

He dragged his feet through the heated floors, allowing himself the comfort of stopping by the kitchen’s entrance, supported by the open sliding door frame, observing Chouji as he put together a simple but hearty meal, hot as he always liked every meal to be, even the pickled sides plated in their smaller bowls and left out to reach room temperature. Shikamaru was usually served them straight from the fridge, but didn’t mind much, specially if he could watch Chouji following his own method, doing things without overthinking and worrying and just doing what he likes to do. 

They had gone to lunch with Chouji’s mom the previous afternoon, and she took the opportunity to point out that Chouji haven’t been cooking for himself lately, and surviving on sandwiches and store-bought onigiris and soup (which wasn’t as bad as it sounded considering convenience stores inside the clan had onigiris and makis made and packaged in-store daily, in much better quality than those outside). Chouji pouted but continued to eat his noodles silently, using the large bow to cover his face partially. Shikamaru smiled humorously, wondering if Megumi-san’s goal was to make him nag at Chouji to eat better (something he had zero footing to stand on) or move back in. The two older women at the table, Chouza’s mom and former head, Choukume, and her younger sister, Kuri, echoed the sentiment, less to poke Shikamaru into doing their bidding and more just to externalize their dissatisfaction. Chouji ate faster and with more purpose, and Shikamaru crossed eyes with his little 15-year-old cousin sitting across them, looking every bit as exasperated as she always looked when her family started being particularly crotchety. He imagined Zakuro-chan was glad her own parents left early in the morning, not only because her dad, Kuri-sama’s son, was one of the loudest to grill Chouji whenever Chouza wasn’t around, but also because she got to eat two breakfasts, her mom’s own favorite, natto over the rice, and Chouji’s mom usual salmon roe on rice. Megumi-san wasn’t an Akimichi, but was one hell of a cook, which was the first thing Chouza fell for (and that was always a funny story, that changed a little bit every time it was told), so everyone in the house learned as much as they taught, and their favorite dishes to cook were very distinct but had a clear overlap, like how they all always served a big egg yolk on the rice regardless of other toppings. It was usually a little heavier than Shikamaru would prefer, despite him being able to eat, in volume, a lot close to Chouji’s meal size than a lot of people would guess looking at his scrawny frame (or “lean”, at best, if he’s been eating well and working out consistently, which accounted to two, three months a year, tops, when he worked field).

Chouji ended up eating a meal or two every week with his family, about the only thing he could promise that made his mom stop tearing up at any mention of his moving out, months after it happened. He loved his family but it was always busy and loud, and Shikamaru saw how his shoulders rested more at ease now, and how he moved like he wasn’t trying to blend with the walls to avoid being poked at, questioned, nagged and lectured. He had probably realized Shikamaru was there by now, but didn’t feel like he needed to be on guard over the company, and they coexisted in comfortable silence. 

As Chouji started to put the hot dishes in their bowls, Shikamaru took the chance to start bringing everything to the small, low table outside where he had most of his meals during the day, overseeing the much smaller backyard, that still got its fair share of visits from the local butterflies and bees that pecked at what few flowers there were. He kissed Chouji’s cheek sweetly before taking the soup bowls, letting him follow behind needing only to bring the fish and the rice bowls in a small wooden tray. Shikamaru’s bowl of rice was set in front of him with a shared smile, still a little sleepy on Shikamaru’s part. It was as big as Chouji’s but had only a solitary little sour plum dotting the center. Shikamaru eyed Chouji’s own bowl loaded with roe and a huge yolk, like his mom would do. He smiled, to himself this time, knowing Chouji didn’t even like umeboshi, and probably went around the clan looking to buy from whoever had a home-pickled jar or two just for him.

They sat side-by-side after eating, enjoying the morning’s warmth, listening through the fence as older children who didn’t get up early on weekends made their way out of the clan’s backgates, raucously, in small groups that took a lot of space. Shikamaru slumped against Chouji, wondering what he was so quiet about, and noting he was a lot quieter than he used to be in his mid-teens, preferring to distract himself from his inner monologue than indulging it. A misconception about people who didn’t like silence was that they weren’t comfortable enough with their friends or significant others, but Shikamaru found many just weren’t comfortable with themselves, at least without doing something else to occupy their mind. He wondered what that meant for Chouji at the moment.

Had he not spent the night over, Shikamaru would probably still be sleeping in his dingy room and skipped breakfast to walk to Chouji’s in the middle of the afternoon if Naruto didn’t show up first to beg for company because he also turned into more of a workaholic than he’d ever admit to, and had no idea what to do with a whole free weekend either. Maybe Naruto would still chase Shikamaru down there, knowing he’s been there most of the time these days, and Shikamaru only hoped it’d be after his morning nap. He hasn't been able to sleep in since the war, instead waking up at his usual 6 to 7am, then taking strategic naps throughout the day, or one big nap after breakfast until noon if he were tired enough. Sometimes he’d wait a bit more before going back to bed, feeling it hard to sleep on a stomach as full as his was at the moment, but he should definitely get to it if he were expecting guests later on.

“Do you have anything to do today?” Shikamaru turned his head to press the corner of his mouth against Chouji’s arm, kissing it over the thick sweater fabric. It took a lot of coaxing to convince Chouji to hang out with their friends, especially in public, so Shikamaru hoped to first convince him to go back inside so they could cuddle and nap for now.

“No… there is some paperwork I ignored, like… all week. But we can go back to bed for now, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

Shikamaru snorted. Sure, that wasn’t a lie. He kneeled up and kissed Chouji nice and softly before fully rising to his feet.

“Yeah, you got it. You know me so well, Chou-chan.”

Chouji flushed pink and scrunched his nose at the cheesy pet name, getting up himself and walking back inside through the kitchen. He could already hear Shikamaru’s footsteps through the inner corridors cornering at the bathroom. He preemptively fetched out a nicer set of teacups and ran some water through them, setting them down to dry for when Naruto came over in the afternoon to try and drag them out, muttering to himself.

“Better than you think, Shikamaru.”

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on a twitter hiatus right now, but even if you won’t follow, there’s some cute shikachou fanart I’ve been publishing there I gathered in this moment: [twitter.com/i/events/1290396071668207620]. The last two of which are what inspired this and the next installment. I’m clearly obsessed with fluff and have no idea why the angst comes out like that in the written medium.


End file.
